


Hope [Is a Four Letter Word]

by setos_puppy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Feeeeels, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Possibly Pre-Slash, more friendship than anything, what am I supposed to tag this as?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1199167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setos_puppy/pseuds/setos_puppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott promised Stiles he'd take care of it.  He just wants to be sure it can be taken care of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope [Is a Four Letter Word]

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song Counting Stars by OneRepublic which was my anthem for this. I did far too much research on FTD to really justify anything considering I didn't put all that much of said research into this fic. 
> 
> This fic is for Megs.

The first thing Stiles becomes acutely aware of when everything comes rushing back is just how much he _aches_. He can still smell the odd stench of burning and the strong smell of salt and something overtly sweet. His whole head throbs like it’s living and he feels like he’s about to puke. His eyes slowly open and he squints around the dimly lit room and raises an arm to comb through his hair, jumping at a sharp sound of metal on metal at the action and peers to the side to see himself handcuffed to the hospital bed. 

“Stiles?”

A low groan leaves him at the sound of his name and he turns his head, offering up something he hopes is a smile as he looks toward his dad and Scott, they’re both on the edge of their seats, looking like they’ve slept in them. He opens his mouth to talk but coughs instead, feeling like razors are being dragged up through his throat. His dad pulls over a cup of water with a straw while Scott shoots out of the chair to get his mom. 

Stiles drinks deeply, the water soothing his throat but not helping the pounding in his head. He sinks back into the pillows and drags his hands over his face. He has a million questions - did he hurt anyone - _kill_ \- is it gone for good; what day is it; what year; how long has he been out?

His dad helps him sit up and when Melissa enters the room, Stiles tries for another smile, it feels less awkward now and he manages a croaked out, barely working greeting. 

“Hey, Stiles. Before we get to all your questions I just need to run some tests, okay?”

“Yeah.” Melissa shines a light in his eyes, makes him follow her finger, has him count to ten back and forth, give his address, run through a few other basic questions, before she takes his pulse and blood pressure and sits on the corner of the bed, scribbling things into his chart. Stiles watches her for a long moment. “So, am I… okay?”

Melissa turned back to him with a soft smile and nodded her head. “In pretty good shape, I’m just going to drop this off.” 

As she left the room, Stiles turned his eyes back to his dad and Scott, a frown pulling at his mouth. “Okay, what’s really happening?”

Scott shook his head and offered up a lopsided smile. “Nothing, dude. Things were just… You were kind of a jerk. But we managed to get it out of you and… Yeah.”

Oh. Okay, so he hadn’t hurt anyone too bad it seemed. That was good. “Then why am I handcuffed to the bed?” He levelled his eyes at his dad who rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “I mean what if I had to pee or something?”

“Kid, you’ve been out for three days, you’ve been going in a more clinical fashion. Besides, I didn’t want you wandering off.” The ‘again’ was unsaid but Stiles felt it. 

Huffing out a breath, offering up a grin when his dad uncuffed him, Stiles closed his eyes. “I’m so glad to be rid of that thing, you have no idea. I thought I was going crazy.” He let out a quiet hum and settled into the bed, rolling onto his side to get more comfortable and peered at his visitors. “The… crazy was because of the whatever it was… right?”

The blank, discomforted looks on their faces said more than Stiles cared to know.

***

Two days later found Stiles at home, surrounded by journal articles, laptop splayed everywhere, new pill bottles and vitamins lining his bedside table beside stacks of precariously piled books on word puzzles and brain teasers. _Keep the brain active; lots of omega threes; lots of B vitamins and vitamin E; antioxidants and ginseng for memory!_ He hadn’t even graduated high school and he had what some websites called ‘juvenile Alzheimer’s’. 

He had been reading the same pamphlets and articles over the past two days that he was pretty sure he could write them in his sleep. He knew what to expect now - fluctuations in mood, even more distractibility, blunting of his emotions, short term memory loss, eventual language and communication problems… What was worse was that his dad was being dragged through all of this again. 

Stiles was terrified, but he didn’t want to show it. He bought flashcards for kids on every topic he could think about, spent the previous day making meticulous notes in photo albums. Doing all the things he remembered his dad having done for his mom. He wanted to keep everything sharp. As sharp as he could for as long as he could. 

He hated this stupid thing. The stupid three letters FTD. The fact that he was the youngest recorded case, that if it hit anyone under thirty five it was shocking, to hit someone under twenty was unheard of. Hooray for him. Medical anomaly to be studied. 

For now he’d spend his days as he normally did, in class, running with werewolves, eating curly fries and chasing after tail he was pretty sure he’d never get. After all, there was no real timeline for this sort of thing, decline could take a year to twenty. It ranged from person to person. 

He’d be fine.

For now.

***

Three months later, Stiles handed the keys to his jeep to his dad. He doesn’t say anything about how he nearly scared himself, mistaking the gas for the brake. His dad’s hands curled around the keys and he gave a sad half-smile and squeezed his shoulder. 

Six months later is the first emotional outburst. He erupted into sudden, hysterical laughter in the middle of a pack meeting before it cut off just as quickly. His mortification only grew with the look of sympathy on everyone’s faces. He waved it off, clearing his throat and draining his water bottle, chewing on the straw in agitation and wishing everyone would _stop staring_.

He made it nearly to summer break before he had an explosive episode in the middle of class. His dad arrived fifteen minutes later, while he was sitting with Scott, rocking quietly on the steps and rubbing his hands repeatedly together. Scott looked broken and Stiles stared, unconcerned, not knowing why. He was fine. Same old Stiles. Stupid school.

His dad submitted the class resignation the next morning.

***

When Scott arrived the first day of summer break he found Stiles in his room amongst the mess of puzzles, scattered clothes, drawings and lifesavers wrappers. His dad mentioned that Stiles had been on a binge for the sweet, fruit candy for the past three weeks. 

“Hey, Scott.”

“Hey, what’re you doing?” Scott stopped beside the space on the floor Stiles had cleared for himself and sprawled out beside him, watching Stiles put the puzzle together. “A lighthouse, huh?”

Stiles made a quiet clicking noise of affirmation in the back of his throat and hummed as he pressed a piece into place. Scott gave a pinched smile and combed his hand through Stiles’ hair, barely holding back a mix of a laugh and a sob as Stiles nudged into the touch like he used to when they were kids. 

“Stiles, remember when I said a while back that I’d do something to make you better?”

Stiles turned his head, squinting at Scott. His mouth moved into a twist of confusion and he shrugged his shoulders. “M’fine.”

Scott opened his mouth, wanting to bite back that this was not _fine_ , but he knew that in Stiles’ mind everything was perfectly normal. “I know you feel that way, but if you could feel better, would you? Remember how you wanted to be a cool super-wolf like me?”

Stiles gave a loose nod, rolling onto his back to watch Scott with lazy amusement as he raised his hands in ‘claws’. Scott laughed softly and patted Stiles’ arm. “Exactly, dude. You’d still be game for that, right?”

“Game? What game? Hide-and-seek?”

“I mean, you’d still want to be a superhero wolf, right?”

Stiles fixed him with a look of ‘duh’ that is so painfully familiar it has Scott blinking back tears. Stiles blanched at the show of emotion and stood, pulling Scott up with him boredly. “C’mon, make me food, dad’s not letting me use the stove this week.”

“This week” has been the past two months. Scott nodded and let himself be dragged down the stairs as Stiles babbled on about nothing of particular importance. Scott already knew he’d be Skyping, texting and talking to everyone that night, big meeting, maybe a gathering so they can all see Stiles before he gives him the bite.

Just in case.

***

It was never said that Derek Hale was a patient man, but in spite of everything, Stiles had done a lot for the pack and so he’s willing to suffer through Aladdin for him. Everyone around is on pins and needles, knowing it could be the last time they see Stiles who is still blissfully unaware of the direness of his sickness or of the impending possible outcome of Scott’s bite. As Stiles and Lydia belt and warble through _A Whole New World_ , Derek turned his attention to Scott.

“You really love him, don’t you?”

Scott squirmed a bit and shrugged. “He’s my best friend. I made a promise.” He scowled at Derek’s hard look and heaved out a wet breath. “I’d do anything for him. Even if there’s the smallest chance he could get better from this, it’s worth the risk.”

Derek’s eyes flickered over to where Stiles is now casually mouthing at his pillow, watching the TV with a transfixed expression. “You’re a good friend, Scott. Stiles is strong, I think if anyone would pull through this it’d be him.”

Scott’s eyes were far too hopeful.

***

Two weeks later Stiles woke up in the hospital feeling like ass. _Again_.

“Guys, this really needs to stop happening.” He barely managed to finish the sentence before he’s being crushed by what seems like a million people and he gives a rush of wounded air. “Bwo-woooah. Hi. Yes. My brain is better. Scott did the thing, can we let Stiles breathe?”

His dad has red rimmed eyes and Stiles squeezes his arm, offering him up a smile and shaking the muscle under his grip lightly. Lydia’s crouched near the bed, no doubt been keeping vigil, and Scott… Scott’s smiling like an idiot. 

Stiles pushed himself up slowly, letting out a hiss as his body slowly came back online. “Uh, can Scott and I have a minute?” The room emptied quickly and Stiles dragged a hand down his face, pulling at the collar of his gown. “God, these things suck. You’d think if you were going to be here for more than a day they’d put you in something more comfortable.” He looked up at Scott, rolling his eyes at the damp-eyed puppy look he got. “Thank you, you dork. I’m really glad you did it, makes the past few months seem like a really weird dream. Again.”

“I wanted to be sure it would work. Stiles, I was so freaked out.” Stiles forced himself to move as he dragged Scott into him, pulling him into a tight hug. When Scott squeezed him close, Stiles had to admit it felt nice not feeling like everything was going to break.

“I’m here, Scott, I’m here.”

Stiles felt Scott nose at his hair and take in a breath, unable to help himself, Stiles pressed his nose to Scott’s neck, taking in the smell of him with his new senses. Alpha. Maker. Friend.


End file.
